


carve your name into my arm

by likewinning



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likewinning/pseuds/likewinning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Tim comes in, Roy checks his ID before he even agrees to a consul<em>tation</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	carve your name into my arm

The first time Tim comes in, Roy checks his ID before he even agrees to a consul _tation_. But Tim hands off the ID, looks Roy dead in the eye and says he can bring a birth certificate if Roy's not satisfied.

"No need for that, man," Roy says. "Just trying not to get arrested, okay?"

For some reason, that makes Tim blush.

 

*

 

Tim gives him a rough sketch of what he wants - he's not a bad artist at all, could do something with a year or two more of practice - and he comes by a few days later for his appointment. He strips his shirt off and he's pale as a ghost, bones sticking out.

"It's gonna hurt," Roy says, cleaning off the skin on Tim's ribs where he wants the tattoo. "I mean, you know that," Roy says. He looks up at Tim, who's just _staring_ down at him with an intensity that's a kind of unsettling. Maybe he's just gotten so used to drunk people. "But really. If they pain gets to be too much for you, just let me know and we'll take a break."

Tim nods, licks his lips. "I'll be fine," he tells Roy.

"Sure, but this is a pretty painful spot -"

"I'll be _fine_ ," Tim says and Roy nods, shuts up and gets to work.

He's seen a lot of shit, inking people. Big hairy guys who make him stop every three minutes so they can catch their breath. People who are in so much pain they forget to _breathe_ and then Roy has to go get them a fucking cookie or something until they're back to normal. Dick always gets antsy halfway through, has to make Roy stop so he can do a couple laps around the shop.

Tim is - perfectly still.

Roy tries to keep up a conversation with him at first. The quote Tim's getting is one Roy recognizes, so they talk about books for a while, and then Tim asks him about some of the art on the walls - "All of that's _yours_?" Tim asks a little breathlessly, and at first Roy thinks Tim's hurting, but when he suggests they take a break Tim says, " _No._ No."

After a while, though, he's too focused doing the design Tim asked for to talk about much else. Tim's still staring down at him, watching everything he does, and no part of Roy has missed the fact that Tim's hard.

It's normal, Roy guesses. If you're a pain junkie, anyway.

 

*

 

Tim sees him almost once a month after that. He has Roy's number, so he'll call him up and leave breathy little messages about the next piece he's thinking of, about what a great job Roy did on the last one, and sometimes Roy has to listen to the messages more than once to hear what Tim's _actually_ saying because -

Okay, so he's kind of fucking cute. None of the things he asks Roy for are what Roy typically draws - he likes big pieces, ones that take up sleeves and shoulder blades - but Roy humors him anyway, because Tim's eyes just light up so _bright_ when he sees the finished work.

The next one Tim wants is on his shoulder blade. Normally he comes by after class, but tonight he shows up with one of his friends, a pretty blonde girl showing off some pretty great ink of her own.

"So _you're_ the guy," Steph says, and Tim glares at her.

"I'm the guy?" Roy asks. "I mean, I _am_ the guy. I'm the tattoo guy, or at least _Tim's_ tattoo guy, unless -"

Steph laughs. "Oh, I'm covered. We're headed out after this though, so I figured I'd stick around if you don't mind."

Roy - normally doesn't, but. "I don't if Tim doesn't."

Tim doesn't say anything.

 

*

 

It's a long session this time. Tim asked for one of Roy's original pieces this time, a big sprawling sort of thing that's going to take another session (two more, if it was anyone but Tim, but Tim could be a fucking life model with how well he sits - and yeah, don't think Roy isn't enjoying _that_ thought), and the whole atmosphere feels different this time. It's not Steph's fault - she stays on her phone mostly, talking to Tim now and again but doing her best _not_ to be obtrusive - but it still feels wrong somehow.

"Steph," Tim says, turning over after maybe an hour's worth of work. "We should go soon, right?"

Steph gives him a funny look. Roy can feel the tension in Tim's shoulders. "Uh," Steph says. "Sure, babe, if you want, but -"

"Maybe you could go get the car?" Tim asks.

Steph gives him _another_ look, but gets up and says, "Sure, okay," before she heads outside.

"Tim?" Roy asks. He wraps Tim up, and Tim sits up to pull his shirt back on before he looks at him. "Can I -" Tim asks, "Can I come back tomorrow? I just…"

Roy's supposed to be off tomorrow.

"Sure," Roy says. He tugs at the bottom of Tim's shirt where it was riding up a little. "Sure, man, whatever you want. Tim gives him that bright, pretty smile again before he heads outside to catch up with Steph.

 

*

 

It's so early when Tim comes by the next day that Roy's the only one in the shop. Tim looks a little out of it, but as soon as he sees Roy he smiles, strips off his shirt, and Roy has about a thousand thoughts about _that_ before he remembers what the fuck they're here for and has Tim get back on the table.

"So," Roy says once they get started. There's no tension in Tim's shoulders this time, nothing to suggest Tim's anything but perfectly relaxed underneath the buzz of the needle. "What did you and your friend get up to last night?"

"Oh," Tim says. "She's always trying to get me to meet - people."

"Yeah?" Roy asks. He switches inks, puts his other hand on Tim so he can work on the tiny details.

"Yes," Tim says. "Guys, mostly. She thinks -" the back of Tim's neck turns pink.

"You know, if you want," Roy offers. "I know a couple guys you might -"

Tim immediately changes the subject to a program he saw the other day on Matisse, and since Roy's not about making his customers uncomfortable in any way, they spend most of the rest of the time talking about art.

When they're done, Roy seals up Tim's ink. There's still no one else in the store. Tim sits up, but he doesn't put his shirt back on, just sits there watching Roy clean up. Tim's hard again, probably has been for hours, and Roy's just hoping Tim will pay him and go because it's getting too difficult to _ignore_ that.

Roy glances up at him. "You need something else, Tim?"

"Oh," Tim says. "It's only…" Roy finishes cleaning up, comes back around the bench to stand in front of him. Tim's chest is rising and falling a little too quickly; his eyes are a little _too_ big.

"You hurting?" Roy asks. He touches Tim's shoulder, starts to move around him so he can see, but Tim grabs his wrist and says, "No. Not - Roy."

Roy quirks an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, Tim?"

"Why -" Tim licks his lips. "Why do you think I keep coming back here?"

Roy grins. "Dunno," he says. "'Cause you're a fucked-up little pain junkie?"

Tim stares him down, a lot like that first time. "Maybe," he says, "but there are far cheaper ways to - alleviate that."

"Kid," Roy says, stepping between Tim's legs when he opens them for him. "I don't speak in riddles. You want something, you -"

Tim drags him down and kisses him, fucks his tongue into Roy's mouth and yanks out half the hair on Roy's head keeping him there.

"This," Roy says, turning Tim and pushing him back down on the table, "Is a really bad idea."

Tim blinks at him. "Do you care?"

"Nah," Roy says. "Figured you'd get me fired one way or another."


End file.
